About 'BLOODY' Time
by Death7270
Summary: Revenge fic pure and simple. Lots of blood Gorn. Lots of Gorn Squick. Lots of Squick You have been warned. Mwahahaha!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did but. :)

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Harry was tired.

Tired of those around him dying. Tired of not making any difference in the war. Tired of fighting for Dumbledore's 'greater good'.

But right now, right this instance, he was tired of putting up with the Dursley's crap.

Not 30 seconds after crossing the threshold of number 4 Privet Drive and Vernon was on him.

The oldest male Dursely threw his nephew face first into the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

Slightly dazing Harry. Vernon then began with his fists, pummeling both Harry's face and stomach unrelentingly.

When Vernon's knuckles grew sore he let Harry to fall to the ground and began kicking with his steel toed size 12's.

With a final grandiose stomp on Harry's chest, causing Harry to throw up blood and bile all over the foyer, Vernon grabbed a cricket bat from the umbrella stand (a toy Dudley no longer used) and brought it down on Harry's arms and legs with great sweeping motions interspaced with the occasional swipe at the downed boy's head.

Within 6 minutes Harry had gone from simply a malnourished & skinny lad returning 'home' after a year at school, to a bloody pulp.

After Dudley got a few hits in himself, Vernon and his son dragged Harry into the garage. Lifting him onto the workbench Vernon surveyed the damage.

Like a surgeon at his operating table. With practiced ease he used superglue to seal the 7 large lacerations he had formed. The smaller ones would be left to heal 'naturally'.

When one of the bigger cuts refused to hold Vernon pulled a carpet stapler off the wall and tacked the skin together.

Of course he also shot another half dozen staples into sections of unaffected skin just for the hell of it. In doing so realising that he had broken Harry's left arm.

Vernon cut two lengths of gaffa tape and bound the arm with no splint, all the time saying a silent gleeful prayer that it would mend wrong. Harry's right shoulder was undeniably dislocated but Venom left that be.

"All in all, a welcome home well done" Vernon thought.

Selecting a hammer he cracked four more of Harry's ribs and Harry's right wrist for good measure. With Dudley's help they carried Harry up to the smallest bedroom of the house and dumped the blood covered form on the tattered and already blood covered sheets of the room's bed.

The sheets had not been washed since the summer before. Petunia refused to sully the washing machine with such filth.

Vernon closed and locked the door. Went to his room stripped off his clothes, throwing his blood speckled shirt into the bin by the door.

Petunia waited in the bed and for the next several hours Vernon made love to his wife.

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**Authors Note:**

This is a drabble that may lead to a wonderful future. But I want reviews. I have already written several very short chapters not because I have no idea how to write this fic but because it's just going to be more horrific than this first chapter. So review, put your comments forward and I will agree to merge 'most' of your challenges/ideas into future parts.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did but. :)

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Harry did not scream.

It was not the worst beating by far. Nor was it even as close to as painful as having been nail gunned to the cellar roof with 3 inch long decking nails through the bones of his arms, legs and shoulders (at age 9).

No Harry still firmly believed that the time after coming 'home' from his first year at Hogwarts, where Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had strapped him face down on the lounge room coffee table and had taken turns with the vegetable peeler stripping long sections of skin off his back and rubbing salt, lemon juice and kerosene into the skin over half the night still had to be the worst.

He only survived these treatments due to his magical heritage. Or so he supposed. He could not be sure but most of his wounds would kill or maim a normal/muggle.

Lying in bed unable to move was not how he wished to spend the rest of his summer.

Around midnight he managed to roll onto his side and sit up. Focusing on himself he willed his body to heal. It did not cure him completely nor did it remove any scars but any damage to his organs and deeper tissues generally fixed up. Plus it kick stated the overall body repair.

He had never told anyone about what had happened to him over the years. Hogwarts had been an eye opener for him. He could escape the torment. It had taken 5 years and the death of Remus to finally break their control over him. Had he have been a split second faster he knew he would have cursed Vernon into a pile of goo.

Feeling more mobile he leaned down, from his little hidey-hole beneath the floorboard he pulled out a pair of pointy nosed pliers and ripped out the 'additional' staples. Using a needle and thread he sutured the 'minor' lacerations his uncle had left.

The superglue would hold, it always did.

Making a mental note that when he found out who invented it he would take the time to personally thank them for saving his life (more than once).

Harry dropped the pliers onto the floor and flopped back onto the bed. Cringing as his skin pulled uncomfortably. He knew like all his other scars, these new ones would eventually fade to a fine line and join the patch work that was his body.

He made another mental note that once he could do magic freely again he would perform some more active healing spells. And go Dursley hunting too.

Satisfied that he would survive till morning he let himself pass out.

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**Authors Note:**

This is a drabble that may lead to a wonderful future. But I want reviews. Uping the threat level one or two notches this chapter. So review, put your comments forward and I will agree to merge 'most' of your challenges/ideas into future parts.


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